


six years

by Anonymous



Category: Actor RPF, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Longing, One-Sided Attraction, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hastily written with not an ounce of shame because I have none of that.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Joe Dempsie/Maisie Williams
Comments: 17
Kudos: 24
Collections: Anonymous Collection





	six years

**Author's Note:**

> They may be real people but this story is entirely fictional. There are references joesie shippers may understand but otherwise, none of these are real.

_ "I like you. I've always liked you. In fact, I think I may have fallen for you. A bit." _

_ "Maisie..." _

_ "Yeah, I know. You don't have to say anything. I just needed to get that out of my system." _

_ "I'm so sorry." _

_ "Like I said, it's okay. There's tons of other fishes in the water, right? I'll be fine." _

* * *

Six years. Six years and her voice was still as clear as it echoed in his mind like a broken record. Six fucking years and the memory of her standing across him, grey eyes moist and red, dainty hands shaking ever so slightly, still haunted his mind. He could tell, and damn him for doing so, that she was mustering all the skills and talent she had as an actress to not break down.

Any man would have felt pride in that, to see one of the best actors in the world be so lost in their pain that it was like their greatest asset had jumped right out of a window. Joe simply felt like the biggest douche to ever grace the universe.

It didn't help that the next day, he had received a text from Sophie. She had only said one thing, but he knew what she meant.

_Asshole._

He had known Maisie liked him. She was, after all, a teenaged girl who had to work with a guy older than her for months. He wasn't one to flaunt his looks, but he knew he was handsome. Her crush on him was almost inevitable, so he ignored it. He kept a friendly, professional relationship with her, in hopes that he doesn't unintentionally lead her on. They weren't even as close, not as she was with Ben and Eros.

And then Jacob called about a concert, and then  _she_ called about wanting to catch up, and that's how they had ended up dancing like drunk idiots onstage.

Later that very night, as he subtly kept both of their alcohol intakes at bay (she could take care of herself, but she was  still  the only girl in that group and he had to keep a sober eye on her), she poured her heart out. She had waited for the others to be out of earshot before she dropped it on him.

He was glad Jacob never asked why they had to drive her home in a mood that was nowhere near the one they had all been in not too long ago.

His friend did say something though, months later.

_ "She's moved on, mate. Look. You don't have to beat yourself up about it anymore." _

She was dating some kid whose name he couldn't even remember, not when he was drowned in the relief that she did find another fish. A younger, more suitable fish who won't break her heart like an utter dick would.

Until, two years as they were filming the 8th season, when he found her sniffling and red-eyed in Sophie's arms. The prick had dumped her. He was glad he wasn't yet filming with a hammer, or he would have broken whatever fake sword he was pounding on, or a poor stuntman's head in his rage.

When he was certain that he was no longer feeling as though he could smash anything that came close to him, he invited her to lunch.

It wasn't even grand. Just a simple lunch at the set, but just the two of them in the farthest table, away from the others. He told himself that it was because they needed to have a bit of closure what with their characters' reunion pending, but he knew to himself that it wasn't that.

It was to comfort her, to let her know that he was still her friend and that he still cared for her.

But then she smiled. A wide, toothy grin that reached her eyes, which he only just noticed had flecks of green swirling about grey, and lacked the longing he had been accustomed to before, replaced with something that was more platonic.

And damn him, damn his fucking heart really, for stopping all of a fucking sudden.

For the first time in his career, he had to spend about half an hour gathering himself as he read what they'd be doing for the second episode.

He liked to think that it was due to the awkwardness, Maisie's brilliance and his experience with these scenes that they filmed  it  in one go, and not because she wanted it over with and  _he_ was only half acting.

He liked to think it was because it's been so long since someone had kissed him that he felt fucking butterflies in his stomach when she grabbed his face and slotted her sweet lips onto his, but he knew that reason was stupid.

He liked to think that it was, again, professionalism that made Maisie decide to strip completely half naked in front of him and not because she learned to trust him again.

He liked to think it was  his years of acting that made him look at her as though she had actually saved all of humankind, bought him all of the football shirts in existence and made the world a better place, and not because he  _felt_ it.

He liked to think up stupid reasons to redeem his own stupidity. 

He spent filming season like a fucking teenager making sure he hadn't been caught staring too intently at his crush.

But how could he keep from smiling too widely, or laughing too loudly, when she skipped around the set giving the sun a run for its money whilst covered in fake blood?

He was sure others had noticed, if Sophie's curious eyes were anything to go by.

_ "You're fucked. Utterly fucked."  _ Jacob had told him sympathetically.

 _"Tell her. Tell her before it's too late."_ Sophie herself had whispered to him when she managed to get him alone.

He didn't know what too late meant. It had been three years already, surely too late was an understatement. He had already lost his chance, especially when the only times he had seen a hint of the longing and want that had been reserved for him once was when the cameras were trained on them and the words spoken were written by someone else,  _for_ someone else and vanished just as they called "Cut!".

Until he sat before her, in one of their many one-on-one lunches, and she dropped him another bomb.

_ "I met someone. And I think I actually like him." _

His sharp intake of breath had gone unnoticed, thankfully. But it was because she had a dreamy, rather lost smile on her round soft face, the apple of her cheeks tinted a pretty rose. He hated it. He hated it so much.

But only because it wasn't for him.

He had distracted himself by asking what she'd meant by actually liking, did she not like the bastard who had broken her heart? He was gifted by her sudden shy demeanor and a wispy, barely audible  _ "I never really got over you." _

_That_ was what too late meant.

_ "He's a lucky man."  _ He had told her, lunch forgotten before he had excused himself as her eyes lit up at the name that appeared on her phone. _Reuben Selby._

He was thankful that Jacob never ratted him out, not when he broke a rather important set piece with a strong swing of his character's warhammer, glaring at the sight of shards littered across the floor as they seemed to mock the state of his own heart.

A year passed, and he'd seen her again. Her hair was dyed pink, and so was her dress.

She was gorgeous.

He had tried not to crush the juul she had handed him as a photographer asked them to pose together, and she was pressed innocently onto his side and his hand itched to circle around her waist.

He had tried not crush his fourth glass of champagne everytime he spied her pink hair in the crowd, followed closely by a young man two heads taller than he was.

He had decided to tell her then, but then Lauren was calling him and he was a class-A coward who could never, not even with alcohol, put his heart out there the way Gendry did. He wasn't Gendry, and  _ she _ wasn't Arya. She'd reject him because she felt nothing for him, and not because there was a war at large and it just wasn't the right time.

So he tried with Lauren. Tried not to think of wavy pink when straight blonde strands slid between his fingers. Tried not to think of soft little hands against his rough cheek when longer ones held his hand. 

He tried, he really did, until he couldn't anymore and he called it quits.

Lauren had laughed at his face cruelly, taunting him about his stupidity over falling for someone who was, by society's rules, unattainable for a guy like him. 

He deserved it.

At the present, he hunched over his phone, barely registering how dumb he looked on his reflection. He took a gulp of his cold beer before tossing the offensive device to his bed. 

She was still as breathtaking as ever, her hair now cut into a blonde mullet that somehow worked on her. Her eyes seemed brighter too, and relaxed. And he was still as hurt as ever, though not as destructive. 

Six years. Six years and her voice was still as clear as it echoed in his mind like a broken record. Six fucking years and the memory of her standing across him, grey-green eyes moist and red, soft and dainty hands shaking ever so slightly, stil haunted his mind. He wished, and damned him for doing so, that the universe had been kinder to them, _to him_. 

**Author's Note:**

> edited way too many times in a row because the author, like Joe in this story, is a fucking idiot.


End file.
